


Anchor

by rumandstars



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 09:50:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1464934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rumandstars/pseuds/rumandstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a world of difference between falling apart and falling together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anchor

**Author's Note:**

> Jouissant is an angel sent from the editing gods. This would be unreadable without her. Bless you, babe. The writing gods played a part in her creation as well, so why don't you mosey on over to her page and take a read?

Not just anyone can face the delights and dangers that await in the deep black of space. Nyota knows she is brave in the same way she knows a limited number of people have the stomach for this job. The Enterprise’s mission may be focused on exploration and discovery, but you end up with your life on the line more often than not. Even worse, you watch the people you love risk themselves time and time again, like water crashing against the shore, eroding sand and stone until there is nothing left.

Nyota is brave, but she is also afraid. Afraid for herself, naturally, and afraid for Spock, who would do anything for his starship, his captain, his crew…and for her, especially for her. Vulcans do not love lightly. She has been given a gift, and her fear of losing it keeps her awake at night.

Spock has noticed her increasing restlessness, how she tosses and turns in their shared bed. He never calls out to her when she has fitful dreams, just presses a strong hand to her forehead and smooths back her hair. Somewhere in her nightmares Nyota feels his thoughts brush hers.  _Be at peace,_ he commands her gently, and the shadows in her mind fade, the same way the sun burns away morning mist.

One night she dreams Spock takes her into his arms, a soothing and familiar action, but when they break apart, she sees emerald blood staining her uniform. There is a hole in Spock’s torso where his heart should be, a gaping, ugly wound gushing what’s left of his life’s blood. She comes up and out of sleep like a drowning man breaking the surface for a few precious moments of oxygen. 

Blinking back the tears threatening to spill over her lower lids, Nyota frantically reaches for Spock. The lights in their quarters are dim, and she doesn’t see him at first. Convinced her hand will pass through air and confirm her nightmares, she can’t help the strangled sob that leaves her lips when she touches the bare skin of his back. 

Spock’s mental shields are at their weakest when he’s asleep. At her panicked touch, he jerks awake and away from her immediately. She tries not to be hurt. It doesn’t quite work, and in the short time it takes Spock to reorient himself and strengthen his shields, the tears she worked so hard to banish are coursing down her cheeks.

"Nyota," he says, the alarm he doesn’t show in his voice all the proof she needs that it’s there. He gathers her to his chest carefully, as if she’s some fragile, broken thing, and lets her cry.

"I thought I lost you," Nyota says when she can speak again. Tears are drying on her cheeks. She sniffles, wipes at her eyes and then, almost as an afterthought, rubs away the salty residue on Spock’s chest. "I had a dream. A nightmare, actually, and I know it must be so…illogical to you, worrying about something that isn’t real."

He remains silent, so she plunges on, “I’m sorry, Spock. It’s been too much recently, too many close calls, and if something were to happen to you-“

Spock’s fingers are warm under her chin as he tilts her face up. His eyes are dark, cheekbones sharp in the low light, and he looks heartbreakingly beautiful.

"I fear losing you as well," Spock says.

Nyota knows it’s his way of telling her it is not illogical to want to hold on to someone you love.

She laughs, relieved, and it feels like she’s come home after a long, lonely journey. “I’ll live forever if you will. The immortal Communications Officer and her Vulcan sidekick. It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

Spock kisses her, mouth open and warm, and speaks against her lips, “Indeed. Forever is not a quantifiable amount of time, however. A human would eventually find endless life to be tedious.”

"Too much time, not enough to do?" Nyota translates, pulling back to finish their conversation. "And how would a Vulcan feel about living forever?"

Spock is staring at her lips, his tongue darting out to wet his own. “Vulcans do not feel, Nyota. If I were capable of processing emotions, I would not be adverse to the concept of an eternity with you. There are a multitude of activities with which to occupy ourselves.” 

Nyota laughs, this time the kind of laugh that makes her whole body shake. She sees Spock’s eyes flicker down to where her small, firm breasts are barely concealed by the thin nightshirt she is wearing. He catches her catching him looking and she smirks. In one fluid motion she draws her shirt up and over her head. She’s only wearing her favorite pair of black silk panties now.

She won’t be wearing them long.

"For some reason I think this activity is at the top of your list," Nyota murmurs, leaning in and looking up at him from under her lashes.

"How did you arrive at that conclusion?" Spock says, abs rising and falling as his breathing increases, and Nyota has just enough time to congratulate herself on making him use sarcasm before his mouth and hands are all over her.

He was gentle with her before when she was scared. She is not scared now, and he is not gentle. He kisses her hard. It hurts, and Spock curves one hand around her neck, fingertips pressed to her pulse point. He doesn’t squeeze or exert any sort of pressure whatsoever, and Nyota realizes he is simply counting the beats of her heart. This act of tenderness contrasts with the roughness of his kiss in a way that makes her dig her nails into his back and moan brokenly for more. His free hand makes quick work of her underwear, so quick Nyota thinks she hears the fabric rip as he removes them. Spock growls, takes his hand from her throat, and then presses them skin to skin. Nyota breaks away with a gasp, whimpering through bruised lips as Spock moves over her. She spreads her legs and feels him shudder blissfully when his cock comes into contact where she’s hot and dripping for him.

"You’re not fucking me tonight," she says, lust burning in her lower belly, inspiring her. She doesn’t let him inside, just rubs herself on his hard cock, spreading wetness between them. 

"What do you want, Nyota?" 

His voice is wrecked. He’d let her do anything.

"Your mouth first," she sighs. "Then _I_ want to fuck you."

He nods, panting, and she watches his cheeks flush a gorgeous dark green. Spock rocks his hips a few more times, savoring her warmth, and then slides down her body, purposely brushing against her breasts as he goes. He pauses to suck, taking one swollen nipple into his mouth before moving to the other, the light graze of his teeth making her shiver. She thinks she’ll go out of her mind while he kisses across her belly, avoiding where she wants him most to turn his attention to her inner thighs.

"Spock," Nyota moans, reaching down and grasping two generous handfuls of black Vulcan hair; she needs something to tug on if she’s going to make it through this. "Spock, please."

At last he gives her what she wants. The muscles in his arms flex as he uses his strength to keep her from squirming, and she watches in something like awe as he bows his head. His eyes flutter closed and he runs his tongue over her, uncharacteristically teasing. She knows Spock hears her sharp intake of breath because he opens his eyes and she can see an actual smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. He ducks his head before it can become the wicked grin it was meant to be and then she has to throw her head back because watching him is too much. 

He fucks her hard and deep with his tongue, humming in satisfaction when she pulls violently on his hair. The rhythm is perfect, steady and precise, and he only pauses to nuzzle her like she’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, like he can’t get enough of her scent. The sheets are soaked beneath her, and she imagines Spock when this is over, mouth green and wet, a combination of her juices and his saliva shining on his chin, smeared along his jaw where he rubbed his face against her.

It takes her less than a minute to come when he turns his focus to her clit. Three of his slender, clever fingers move in and out of her, and it’s this coupled with the vibrations from his muffled moans and the deliciously obscene wet noises as he sucks on the most sensitive part of her that sends Nyota over the edge. She tries to scream when her orgasm starts and ends up sobbing instead, riding out a pleasure so intense it borders on pain, body tensing and relaxing and then tensing again until she gives one last small shudder and collapses back on the pillows.

Nyota slowly uncurls her fists from Spock’s hair and ruffles the dark strands, half out of affection and half as an apology for the rough treatment. He rests his sticky cheek against her thigh and lets her play with the tips of his ears while she gets her breath back.

She sucks in a lungful of air, shaking off her post-orgasm exhaustion with some difficulty, and says in a voice hoarse from sex, “Spock, get up here.”

He’s eager to kiss her again, to share her own taste with her. His cock is heavy and full between them, beads of precome slicking the smooth skin of her stomach as she squeezes him. They kiss hungrily, and Nyota has to stop when she feels a familiar ache. This is supposed to be about Spock now, but they’ll both get caught up in her pleasure all over again if she lets it happen. 

She’s not going to. She has other plans for him.

"Lights sixty percent," Nyota says to the computer. The room brightens significantly. She needs to be able to see for what she’s going to do to Spock, and sixty percent will allow her to do just that without dispelling the intimate atmosphere.

Nyota quirks a brow at him expectantly and he raises  _both_ of his eyebrows in return. She giggles and gestures for him to switch with her.

"Should I be concerned?" Spock asks her, obediently flipping them so she’s resting on top of his body’s solid heat.

"I thought Vulcans didn’t know how to be concerned. Isn’t concern an emotion?" she says. Then she leans in close and whispers in his ear, "You’d be terrified if you knew what was good for you.”

"I am," Spock says, completely for her benefit, and Nyota flashes him a mischievous smile.

The toy Nyota wants for him is in the bottom drawer of the nightstand. She keeps it in a nondescript case, along with a bottle of expensive lube she purchased last shore leave. She wonders briefly if she should put down a towel to soak up any excess lube and then remembers that she already ruined the sheets herself. Grabbing the toy and the small bottle, she shuts the drawer and returns to Spock’s side.

“I am experiencing a form of moderate to severe physical discomfort,” Spock informs her. “I believe I have acquired an affliction more commonly contracted by sexually frustrated human males.”

It takes her a moment. “Spock, you do not have blue balls. Green ones, maybe, but certainly not blue. Be patient.”

The toy, a thick silver plug of medium length, is warming nicely in her palm. Spock, whose temperature runs higher than her own, does not like the cold, and the last thing Nyota wants to do is make him uncomfortable. She wants to see him touch himself, and she drenches his fingers in lube.

“You can play with your cock if you need to, baby,” she says. “But then I want you to open yourself for me.”

He puts on a show for her, jerking his cock lazily at first, then thrusting up into his fist. She loves that he trusts her with this, and she moans along with him when he goes lower, squeezing his balls before spreading his thighs wider to give her a better view.

For a moment she regrets not asking Spock to get on his knees. Spock has a muscular, surprisingly round ass, and Nyota is passing up a golden opportunity to appreciate it more thoroughly. Then she sees the look on his face as he starts opening himself up for her, just like she asked, and discovers this is exactly how she wants it.

“Two fingers only,” Nyota warns as he slides a second finger next to the first.

When he’s done, she settles between his spread legs to check how ready he is. He’s still very tight and she’ll have to be careful, but she’s too impatient to wait. His hole spasms around her fingers, trying to keep her inside. She withdraws them and lubes up the toy, and together Spock and Nyota work it in. The first half is the easiest because it’s not as wide, but she has to help him through the second half, talking him through the stretch – which is uncomfortable but not, he says, unbearable.

She sucks his cock while he adjusts, enjoying the weight of him on her tongue and the musky taste of him, far less bitter than that of his human counterparts. His breathing comes in ragged bursts, and he cries out loudly as her fingers dance over the base of the plug. She grips the plug’s base, takes him all the way down her throat, and starts fucking him.

Spock is devastating like this, powerful body splayed out under her, chest heaving as he begs her not to stop. Selfishly, angrily, Nyota revels in the fact that this is the one thing that’s meant for her. Spock may trust Kirk, the Enterprise, and the crew with his life, but it is Nyota he trusts with his heart and his body.

It’s enough for her.

She presses the toy in at an upward angle and hollows her cheeks. Spock _wails_ and gasps her name, erupting down her throat. She swallows every drop he has to give, kissing his spent cock lightly after he slips out of her mouth. He twitches a little, oversensitive, but doesn’t scold her.

He doesn’t move, either, not when she gets up to put the supplies away and not when she wipes him down with a washcloth. She manages to coax Spock out of bed long enough to put fresh sheets on. He wraps his arms around her, joins their minds briefly. _Sated sleepy love you_ she feels rather than hears, and then Spock crawls back under the covers.

“Good night, Nyota.”

“Good night, Spock,” she says.

She doesn’t have any more nightmares.


End file.
